


Dedicated Follower Of Fashion

by kcstories



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: hd_500, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-25
Updated: 2008-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-08 14:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcstories/pseuds/kcstories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry isn't too happy about the upcoming graduation party, and something has Draco miffed as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dedicated Follower Of Fashion

**Author's Note:**

> Dedication: For enchanted_jae. Keywords: party, pink, punch. Dialogue: "You're not wearing that, are you?"  
> Warnings: AU-ish. Hint of fluff.  
> Disclaimer: The Potterverse is JKR's, not mine, and the title was shamelessly borrowed from The Kinks.

"You're not wearing _that_, are you?"

Draco Malfoy’s distinctive drawl echoes through the otherwise silent corridor and Harry swiftly turns around to face him. “Excuse me?” 

“That… _thing_ you pulled out of that parcel in the Great Hall just now. Please tell me it was someone’s idea of a practical joke.”

Harry sighs. He’s been having a crappy week thus far and the prospect of an upcoming Divination class isn’t exactly helping matters. “Forgive me if I don’t accept fashion advice from someone who helped Parkinson pick out that pink monstrosity back in our fourth year, Malfoy,” he snaps.

Draco glares. “Don’t mention that backstabbing bitch to me,” he hisses and stomps off in the direction of the dungeons, leaving a gobsmacked Harry staring after him.

“What’s bothering the Ferret now?” a third voice asks. It belongs to Ron who has just exited the library. “Can’t he get a date for the party or something?”

Harry shrugs. “I’m not sure. He started out pestering me about those robes your Mum sent us this morning. He was his usual self, but then when I mentioned Parkinson…”

“Ah. Parkinson. Yeah.” Ron shakes his head. “You haven’t heard yet, then?”

“Heard what?”

“It seems she wanted to get together with him, kept badgering him about it for weeks, and when he finally said ‘no’ last night..”

“What?” Harry nudges his friend, who is now sporting a mysterious grin. “What, Ron?”

“She shrieked and called him a pouf, loud enough for the whole courtyard to hear.”

Harry frowns. “Wow.”

“Yeah. And guess what he said to her then?”

Harry shrugs. “He started shouting insults, I suppose.”

“No.” Ron’s grin widens further. “Much better than that. He replied, all dry and matter-of-fact like, ‘Even if I were straight, I still wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole, Parkinson.’ Now, I’ve never been terribly fond of the git, as you well know, but he seems to have grown a pair over the summer. The Pug looked like she’d been slapped in the face. Quite a sight to behold, let me tell you.”

Harry swallows thickly. “So, er—Malfoy’s… gay?”

“Seems so.” Ron shrugs. “Not really a surprise though, is it?”

“Hm.” Harry looks down at his shoes, unsure what to say or do next. He doesn’t suppose that this would be the appropriate moment to confess that he’s developed certain feelings for the most unlikely of people. He hasn’t even come out to his friends yet, the only exception being Ginny. He figured she deserved to be told the real reason why he ended their relationship a few months ago, and true to her word, she hasn’t breathed a word to anyone.

“Anyway, I’d best be off,” Ron says, breaking an odd sort of silence. “I have to get some strong coffee so I don’t fall asleep in Trelawney’s class. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Harry just nods.

 

****

 

Three days pass. With ever-increasing frequency, Harry finds his gaze drawn to the Slytherin table. 

Most of the students—even the more conservative Slytherins—seem to have accepted Malfoy’s homosexuality. Since that spectacular row with Parkinson, it has barely been mentioned again, and when he looks at it logically, Harry doesn’t see much reason why it would have been.

Life goes on, after all, and with the war behind them and the future beckoning, most students have other, more important matters to occupy their minds with.

Most students, but not so much Harry, who can’t help wondering if, maybe...

Malfoy has been on his mind quite often since Voldemort’s defeat. He secretly hoped that the two of them might call a truce and perhaps even become friends.

Upon his return to Hogwarts, however, Harry discovered that nothing had really changed. Certainly, the ardent hostility that had previously raged between them was gone, but the taunting soon started again, albeit in some half-hearted, watered-down way, almost as though Malfoy was only going through the motions.

At the other end of the Hall, Draco looks up, clearly aware of someone’s gaze upon him. He glares.

Harry swallows and quickly turns his head away. _No, nothing has changed at all,_ he decides wryly; _for some things never do_.

 

****

 

Making his way down the corridor, ready to head back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry really wishes he could give that blasted party a miss.

Perhaps he should sneak away after that speech he’s expected to hold. He still has trouble believing that he got lumbered with that, too. He killed Voldemort, saved the world—well, sort of—so when will they finally leave him in peace? When will he finally get the chance to be just Harry? He lets out a long, weary sigh. No, this definitely hasn’t been a good year so far.

Somewhere behind him, he can hear a loud cough. Someone wants to attract his attention.

Harry turns around and resists the urge to groan. Draco Malfoy is standing there. Of course. Who else would it be?

“What do you want?” Harry asks, his heart hammering in his ribcage.

“I have a question for you,” Draco says flatly. “Why have you been watching me, Potter?”

“W-What? I haven’t!” Harry protests, but he isn’t fooling anyone.

“Don’t lie to me. It doesn’t become you.” Draco crosses his arms “Besides, it’s a perfectly reasonable query.” 

Harry doesn’t know what to say. 

_'You’ve been on my mind constantly. I can’t stop watching you or wrap my head around how gorgeous you’ve become, or maybe you’ve always been that way, but—'_

_No. No. No. That definitely wouldn’t work._ 

“Potter?”

“Er-Ron said you’re gay,” Harry blurts out at last, and is instantly overcome with a strong urge to slap himself.

Draco smirks. “And…?”

“I, um—“

Draco says nothing, but his facial expression is one of obvious amusement. 

“I, um, was wondering, Draco, if you’d like to go to the party with me,” Harry manages, ejecting the words so fast that he almost trips over them.

Draco rolls his eyes. “Very funny, Potter. Now cut the crap. Why were you really staring at me? Plotting something perchance? Planning to spike my punch perhaps?”

“N-No,” Harry says. “I meant what I said. I’ve... er...”

Draco hesitates. “Yes?” 

“I’ve been—I’ve liked you for a while, I-I think.”

Draco’s eyes widen. “You… Bloody hell! _What_?”

Harry nods slowly. “I wanted to get to know you better after... everything that happened, but once we got back here, we kind of returned to our old routine of… well, doing what we did before.”

“Right.” Draco runs a hand through his hair. 

“I’m not having you on, really,” Harry insists, feeling more and more awkward by the second. “I did mean to ask you, ever since I found out that you’re—Anyway, you’ve probably got a date lined up already, the party’s tomorrow, so—“ He trails off, wringing his hands nervously.

“No,” Draco says, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I don’t. Actually”—he coughs nervously—“I was planning on just giving the whole thing a miss. Leaving school seems more of a formality anyway, doesn’t it? What’s there to celebrate? I’d rather just move on.”

Harry nods. “I wasn’t keen on attending either, but McGonagall insisted I give this speech, so—”

Draco grins. “The many perks of being a war hero.”

“Yeah. Well.” Harry’s smile is apologetic. “I guess that title will be following me around for a while yet.”

A few minutes pass as the two young men watch one another in contemplative silence.

“So,” Draco says. “Would you really like us to go together?”

Harry nods. “That is, if you want to as well.”

“Ah. That rather depends, doesn’t it?” 

“On what?” 

“For starters,” Draco replies with a grin, “are you planning on wearing those… _garments_ I saw you unwrap in the Hall?” 

Harry quickly shakes his head. “No. I bought new robes at Hogsmeade last weekend. You were right, the others were kind of er—“

“—ghastly?” Draco offers helpfully.

“Yeah.”

Harry is relieved that Draco doesn’t mock him for that, spout out ‘Trying to impress me, Potter?’ or something along those lines, which would be a painfully appropriate thing to do, and Harry’s sure Draco knows it as well. Slytherins tend to be annoyingly observant about such things.

“Looks like we’ve got a date then, Harry,” Draco says. “Meet you by the door of the Great Hall at seven?”

Harry nods.

“See you tomorrow,” Draco adds and turns to walk away.

“You know, Malfoy...“ 

Draco turns back to face him. “Yes?” 

“People are going to be pretty shocked when they see us make our entrance together.”

Draco considers that for a moment. “I hope so, Potter,” he then says. “I really hope so.” 

And with a parting wink, he saunters back to the dungeons.

 

 

  
  
  



End file.
